7 June 1922

Hotel d'Angleterre, Montana-sur-Sierre, Switzerland

Dearest Elizabeth
   I have been waiting until we got here before I answered your last letter. Rather a disappointing thing has happened. I suppose my enthusiasm was too much for the Furies. At any rate I wish now I had waited before praising so loudly. For they have turned about their chariots and are here in full force again. It was ‘silly' to be so happy and to say so much about it; I feel ashamed of my last letter. But I felt every word of it at the time and more - much more. However, perhaps the truth is some peoplc live in cages and some are free. One had better accept one's cage and say no more about it. I can - I will. And I do think its simply unpardonable to bore one's friends with ‘I can't get out'. Your precious sympathy, most dear Elizabeth I shall never forget. It made that glimpse of the open air twice as marvellous. But here I am with dry pleurisy, coughing away, and so on and so on. Please don't think I feel tragic or despairing. I don't. Ainsi soit-il. What one cannot understand one must accept.
   My only trouble is John. He ought to divorce me, marry a really gay young healthy creature, have children and ask me to be godmother. He needs a wife beyond everything. I shall never be a wife and I feel such a fraud when he still believes that one day I shall turn into one. Poor John! Its hellish to live with a femme malade. But its also awfully hard to say to him ‘you know darling I shall never be any good'. To Elizabeth, Countess Russell, 5 June 1922.]